


When our Lake became the Ocean

by FluxPoe



Series: Moonlit Carcasses [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, He's so cute, I write it Bertholdt because that's how it is, I've always liked the idea of communicating across time and that, Magic lakes or something, the water goes glu glu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluxPoe/pseuds/FluxPoe
Summary: Life was very different than you'd ever imagined; starting for the boy on the other side of the water.
Relationships: Bertolt Hoover/Reader, Bertolt Hoover/You
Series: Moonlit Carcasses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141184
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter One

Every little crook of the lake had you in wonder: the ever-vibrant and green grass, the cicadas, the sky-reflecting water, the refreshing breeze and even the swarm of mosquitoes that followed you around (dead, between your hand and your arms).

A hidden hideout, completely yours. You readied herself to jump into the water in your new found freedom, shedding your dress by the edge of the lake. There, in your undershirt and underwear, you stretched a leg to feel the temperature before dipping in; you looked down at the crystal-blue of the water.

A pair of wide-eyed pale green eyes stared right at you, a boy that remained still save for the distorted water he was in; trees abandoned, the birds flew behind you, chased away by the scream you let out. You, too, fled as fast as you could.

* * *

Curious as you were, it took no more than two days for you to be fiddling a few feet away from the water. A stick in hand; ready to swat away whatever came your way, whatever could pop out of the water.

This time, on all fours and dressed appropriately —an old shirt and a pair of short, because the spanking you'd received for forgetting your dress in the woods was enough to learn your lesson— you crept closer to the edge, leaving a trail of flattened grass. You reached your forgotten and muddied dress, now impregnated with humidity and almost completely brown, instead of the creamy-white it had been; you were definitely not taking it home, as it would only remind your mother of her anger. You tossed it aside.

You peaked over the edge, the water just a few centimeters away, and again, those green eyes looked back at you. You flinched and cowered, hidding yourself from the image in the lake. How could that even be possible? You took a few deep breaths and looked again, holding the stick as menacingly as you could, this time it was _him_ who flinched.

Your apprehension had not taken long to dissipate, and soon you'd been able to stare at the wobbly reflection for more than five seconds straight. 

It was clear that your eyes weren't playing with you, nor that the boy was a distorted version of you, as he'd move in entirely different ways than you; he seemed as curious as you, but entirely more apprehensive. 

“Hey?” You were tentative.

The boy furrowed his brows, dipping closer. His mouth moved, yet you heard no sound coming from the lake –the water trembled slightly, while the birds still sang and the cicadas still cried in the trees further behind you. 

“Oh, I can't hear you...” 

The boy's brows furrowed deeper and, again, he dipped closer. “What?” You were able to read on his lips.

“Oh,” you chuckled, hiding the lower side of your face from the water, “You can't hear me, either.”

* * *

You'd stared at the bathtub, at the toilet, at cups of water and even at the puddles that formed after it'd rained: _nothing!_ You could only find him at the lake, swaying with the small waves, perched similarly to you, on the edge of his side.

You'd soon realized that talking would take you nowhere, and so the next best option was to write down whatever you wanted to say, but paper was scarce where you lived, and your father needed it more than you did, so you settled for spelling things out on the palm of your hand, using your pointer finger as the pen. 

You both grew used to it; days that turned to months of laying down on the grass at the edge of the lake. His name was Bertholdt, ( _yes, spelled like that, what a weird name_ ); even weirder, the name of his town wasn't in any of your father's books or maps, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe he'd be lying —you were lake friends! There was nothing to hide, nothing that the clear water couldn't show you: his face was too truthful, his expressions clear as day and even the hurried way he'd spell things out on his palm reassured you he meant every single word.

You promised to be honest.

* * *

“What's that?” You tilted your head, focusing on his reaction, discerning if he was lying or not, and whatever he wrote: ocean. Ocean? 

“Like a lake,” He stopped, pulling his lips towards the side, almost pouting, “But bigger. A thousand lakes.”

“No way,” you looked up, scanning the size of _your_ lake, “You're lying.” He shook his head in quick succession, his wide eyes and raised eyebrows immediately had you laughing, “Fine,” You wrote between fits of laughter, “Believe you, stop shaking.”

“We,” he pointed at you, “don't lie.” He looked away from you, and you imagined he was taking in the size of _his_ lake, as you'd done moments before. A gust of wind blew past you, shaking the leaves of all the trees around you; a few waves ondulated through the lake; when you looked back at Bertholdt he seemed preoccupied by something in the distance, pushing himself up with his elbows, half-ready to leave. His stare found yours again, almost hesitant, his hands were lifted only enough for you to read, “Together, see the ocean,” and he bolted off somewhere.

_The ocean... I can't wait to see the ocean._


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life must go on.

It seemed odd to you how often this little waves, this little pulsations, were present in the lake; but you knew little of how they came to be, other than they'd be present when you touched the water. Nobody else knew more; the books your father filled his study with were of no help at all and the tales your mother told were nothing more than fantasy. 

You'd grown a bit, your mother had said. Of course, you were already getting daily lessons from your father, and now your mother would send you out to chop small bits of wood when she'd run out of it. 

Bertholdt grew, too. He was still lanky and his haircut had survived throughout the years, but his frame started to darken a larger portion of the lake –it'd also become apparent that his bruises hadn't been a result of playing around, as you were both too old for that.

“Your eye,” He was obviously trying to hide half of his face as you wrote this, “It's black. Again,” But it was futile, the angle let you view his face clearly, you were familiar with his expressions and what they meant: your promise had been kept.

“Sorry.” Bertholdt covered his eyes with his arm, but otherwise remained still; your gaze immediately concentrated on his mouth, hanging almost as if someone was pulling the corners downward.

You blushed. The sun shone down brightly on your face as you rolled over, laying on your back with one arm covering your eyes —mimicking Bertholdt— and the other hanging over the edge, fingertips soaking in the cool water. Heart beat drumming in your ears, you were doubtful of what your lake friend would think of your state, and if he, maybe, felt the same way. Perhaps, if you could've just rattled off an "I like you" and rushed off to somewhere, you would've done so; but since your only chance of expressing your feelings was to write it out, no matter how quick you'd become at it, the embarrassment would last too long, unbearable —you might just never come back to the lake.

You closed your eyes, let the sun heat your already warm chest —blame the blush on the radiant light— and rolled back over to your usual spot; those green eyes already set to look at you.

* * *

His visits to the lake diminished, and more often than not you now found yourself staring at the clouds reflected on the water; but you never failed to make it to the lake, running back from school, uniform still on and bag thrown on the grass. You laid on your side, precariously close to the edge, dipping your fingers in and out of the water.

Whenever he'd show up, your talks would only last a few minutes —half an hour at most. He seemed different; he intervened saying that you were different, too, but didn't answer anything else when you pressed on it; the blush that tinted his cheeks and the back-and-forth of staring at you then at a distant point itched your curiosity.

“I...” His pale green eyes wavered in the water, almost aquamarine in it, staring at you, “Have to go.” 

Shoulders deflating, you mouthed “Bye” and stared at him as he roamed his eyes over you, eyebrows squeezed close. He mouthed it back at you.

It'd take you a few weeks to realize what those words actually meant, and when you picked that leaf from the water's surface —one that you couldn't pinpoint which tree it'd fallen off from— you left the lake to never come back again. 

* * *

You found out something was wrong through water; the glass and the liquid had shaken, small rings of waves coursed through it. Then you felt it on the soles of your feet, as the ground shook; you ran to look through the window, smoke and dust in the far distance. And _that:_ taller than the wall. 

Your mother let out a stream of “ _No_ ”s as if she was praying, over and over; your father had yelled at you both to move, to _take whatever you could and run._ And so you grabbed your bag, stuffed the clothes that were closest to you, packed a few books and gave the, now brown and stiff, leaf on your window sill one last lingering look. 

The screams of both people and the far-off (but visible) titans disturbed you; your father wouldn't let go of your mother's and your hand, almost pulling you through the thousands of other civilians, as you tried to make sense of whatever was happening.

You were a few metres away from the giant door when you felt it again, in the soles of your feet ( _small waves in the lake flashed, Bertholdt's distorted face_ ): a Titan, the first you'd seen this close, was running right at the flock of people —it felt as if the giant was set on you, with that abnormal smile and those protruding ribs, as it kicked and squeezed people under their feet. The rest pushed others to get away, tearing your father's hold on you, or moved out of the way, cowering and covering their eyes and ears.

You froze: the sunlight disappeared before you squeezed your eyes shut.

* * *

You held your head high, looking straight ahead: ready. Your training would finally begin, and one day, you'd be like them —your wings would protect someone, too.

None of Commandant Shadis' screams could deter you, nor could they erase the determination off your face; a few wore an expression similar to yours, while other cowered between their shoulders, but none no moved. 

When he asked you for your name and purpose, you didn't hesitate to let everyone now at the top of your lungs, “I'm here to protect people, and to one day see the ocean!”

The silence was absolute; his sigh too loud. You turned around: those pale green eyes, ones you couldn't forget, were wide open and staring at you. 

“Bertholdt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey. I'm trying to get this done in two more weeks haha. 
> 
> I'm excited for next chapter, since it'll be the whole "eyyy we finally met” and all. There's (probably) going to be some smut —just a tiny bit since I'm bad at it.
> 
> Comments and criticism are highly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Look: Aquaman.
> 
> Comments and criticism are highly appreciated!


End file.
